


oh, i can barely sleep at night (funny, you're the reason why)

by antisocialgod



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: 5 Times, F/F, Fluffy McFluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antisocialgod/pseuds/antisocialgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Laura finds a way to sleep in Carmilla's bed and one time Carmilla actually asks her.</p><p>Canon-compliant until episode 36, with the exception of <b>the kiss</b>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, i can barely sleep at night (funny, you're the reason why)

**Author's Note:**

> Pureless and mindless fluff.

**I.**

It’s the middle of the night when your vampire hearing picks up on something twitching on the other side of the room. Sadly, it’s not an _unusual_ occurence, really, which sucks because your sleep schedule is already totally messed up thanks to this whole living with humans and _actually_ attending classes thing and then add the fact that any little disturbance will wake you up and, seriously, it’s _hell_.

You want to turn around and go back to sleep - or, you know, at least _try_ \- but you soon realize that it’s not a some _thing_ that woke you. 

It’s a someone.

There’s barely time for your brain to register your actions before you’re moving; your silhouette is barely a flash as you jump to her side, hands grabbing her shoulders and shaking her carefully, “Hey, hey, Laura. _Hey._ Wake up.”

She seems to be trapped in a dream - or nightmare, really - and it takes a few moments for you to manage to shake her out of it, her bleary eyes staring at you in confusion before she seems to understand what’s going on.

“Sorry,” she sighs, just as she’s done plenty of times before. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You don’t want her apologies. What you _want_ is for these dreams to be gone, as they should be, considering you’ve dealt with what was - essentially - the cause for them. But even with Mother gone, Laura still wakes up shaking and trembling in the middle of the night, your name often escaping her lips in a desperate cry.

(It’s not how you imagined she’d ever be screaming for you.)

“Don’t be silly,” you tell her, pushing a strand of hair away from her sweaty forehead. It’s an unexpected gesture and, at the same time, it isn’t. You’ve been getting more and more touchy-feely with her lately, slowly but surely breaking down the self-imposed barrier that you’d spent the last year building. 

You tried to fight the pull, you honestly did, but it seemed that whenever she was around your body just gravitated towards her. 

(You never wanted to be a cliché but, well, you _are_.)

“Are you okay?” you ask. It’s stupid - you know she isn’t - but what else is there to say? You don’t really trust your lips to keep a hold of all the words that are hanging from the tip of your tongue. 

“Yes,” she nods. You watch her carefully, a frown taking over your features. She seems to notice this and, a few seconds later, she exhales softly, turning her face away from you. “Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” The words come out of your mouth in nothing more than a hushed whisper, but they echo like a scream in the darkness of your room.

They’re dangerous words, and you know it. Asking Laura if she wants to talk about something, _anything_ , really, opens up a can of worms that you’re not sure you’re ready to deal with. It seems that your roommate has watched a lot of _The Silence of the Lambs_ growing up, because she seems to think that talking always involves some kind of _quid pro quo_. If she’s talking, she expects you to talk as well.

It goes without saying that you try your best to avoid these circumstances.

This time, however, Laura takes you by surprise when her only answer is a small shake of her head.

(You're beginning to realize she does that a lot.)

(Take you by surprise, that is.)

You wait, though, because Laura’s never been one to deny an opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with you and if that’s not a sign that this nightmare was _really_ bad, then you don’t know what it is.

The room goes quiet for so long that you’re convinced she’s fallen back asleep, when her voice rings out, raspy and tired, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

It’s a confusing request, but you don’t dwell too much on it, “Sure, cupcake. You can take my side.”

She bites her lip and gets up and you’re already settling down on her bed when she takes your hand, tugging you up, “No, I meant, can I sleep in your bed _with you_?”

Your brain goes blank.

On the back of your mind, you realize that she’s asked you something and is expecting an answer, but, really, what are you supposed to say? 

(You're a cliché again.)

You're worried she's gonna take your silence as a sign of resistance, though you're not really surprised (that's a lie, you are) when she simply ignores the need for verbal confirmation and pushes you back into your bed, wasting no time as she follows you.

It's as if all of your dreams have suddenly come to life and yet all you can do is stand there like an idiot, choosing this particular time to remember you don't need to breathe, staring at the back of Laura's head like a kid who was caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.

But Laura's had a nightmare and you're supposed to be making her feel better and you just want to kick yourself at how incredibly inept at basic social interactions you are because you're pretty sure that, whatever it is that you're doing at this moment, _helping_ is most certainly not it.

(You remind yourself that you're a centuries old vampire. You can deal with a nightmare.)

Before you can think too much, you slip one arm around the tiny girl next to you and pulls her closer. In the back of your mind, you take a moment to realize how perfectly Laura's body fits against yours and how it seems that her head was meant to fit on the space between your neck and your shoulder.

It's a strange feeling and you're somewhat glad that Laura apparently drifted back to sleep because you're not sure you could explain what exactly you're trying to do. You don't want for her to realize how terrible at this you are.

(Not anymore than she already does, anyway.)

You press your nose to the top of her head and inhale softly, closing your eyes as her perfume invades all of your senses. 

(She smells like tangerine and lavender, a mixture from that ridiculously expensive shampoo she likes and the softener she uses whenever she does her laundry.)

Within seconds, you're slipping into a land of dreamless slumber.

It's the fastest you've ever managed to fall asleep in your entire existence.

(In the morning, you carefully disentangle your limbs and puts back a respectful distance between your bodies.)

(Neither of you mention what happened.)

 

**II.**

It's the weekend before spring break and the Zeta Omega idiots are throwing their annual _Dorm Interaction_ party, which, in your opinion, is just a nice name for what you’ve personally deemed your own circle of hell on the Silas campus.

(Dante had nothing on these kids.)

It’s not enough that their parties are an exercise in futility if you’ve ever seen one, but on this particular date they think it’s interesting to make it a campus wide event, where they find themselves in the right to go over each and every dorm room in all of the housing buildings that Silas University has, because apparently _’every bro and every hottie has the right to party’_ and the Zetas _’don’t leave anybody behind’_.

Which, stupid, really.

You gave them a well-practiced glare after that particular speech and told the party committee - formed solely by an uncooperative random Zeta and an overly-excited Kirsch - in no uncertain terms, that if they so much as walked by your floor, you would make them wish they’d never been born.

It wasn’t the most creative threat, but it did the job.

Laura, however, thought the idea was _briliant_. You can’t imagine that someone as her would choose a night of partying over binge watching her favorite - and often weird - tv shows, but Laura had claimed it had nothing to do with the mindless idea of partying and everything to do with the opportunities to make new friends and just _see_ people and, again, you just didn’t get it.

Laura’s interactions with people are awkward at best and you’ve never really seen her as a social butterfly, but maybe things changed without the weight of a murderous vampire on her back.

So she went, and you stayed in your room, trying to tune out the music, the talking, the screaming and - what’s most worrisome - the _explosions_ \- you can hear echoing through your window.

You don’t want to pay any attention to this pathetic gathering at all, but Laura is somewhere in that mess and lately you’ve been finding that you can’t really focus on anything else whenever she’s in potential danger. And ever since Mother’s death, you don’t think there’s anything more dangerous than the entirety of the Silas student body getting _drunk_ together.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that _something_ is gonna go wrong.

“Mindless morons,” you sigh, throwing your book aside and moving to the window.

The noise is getting closer to your room and you estimate they’re probably one floor down, if the way the ground is trembling under your feet is any indication. You really hope Kirsch isn’t too drunk to conveniently forget your warning, but you don’t worry too much about it. He may be an idiot most of the time, but after everything that has happened, you know that he respects you enough to give you your peace, even if it means sacrificing a part of his beloved Zeta tradition.

It turns out that you don’t really have to worry about party goers or anything exploding, because right after you poured yourself a glass of blood the door opens, and Perry and LaFontaine walk in, with their arms wrapped around a very giggly Laura. 

You’re surprised her face doesn’t break in half with the way she grins when she sees you.

“Carm!” she squeals, letting go of LaFontaine and Perry and throwing her arms around you.

(She makes a gross mistake in calculating the actual distance between you two and almost ends up crashing down, but your quick reflexes come in hand and you manage to catch her before she can faceplant against the floor.)

Perry winces at the sight, “We’re so sorry. The cooking club came up with this new punch and we told her not to try but we got, uh-”

“We had to _check_ something and when we got back she had already downed two cups with Danny,” LaFontaine explains, throwing a side glance at their best friend. “And Danny is, like, _huge_ , so she can hold her own, but Frosh got knocked down pretty fast.”

“It’s cool,” you reassure them, trying to ignore the way Laura’s warm breath against your neck is sending shivers down your spine.

(You wish you could pinpoint when you became such a walking cliché.)

“I got her, Ginger Squared.”

LaFontaine rolls their eyes at the nickname but they have an amused smile on their lips, so you know that your insults don’t hold the bite they used to anymore.

It’s okay, maybe you like these weird nerds.

“Come, Cupcake,” you sigh when they leave, picking up Laura bridal style and carrying her to her bed.

You lay her down and work on removing her shoes. The little knot on them is a bitch to remove, and by the time you finally manage to get them off, Laura is blinking her wide, doe-like eyes at you, and then she’s getting up and stumbling towards your bed.

“Woah, hey,” you call, reaching out to help her. “What are you doing?”

But she doesn’t answer you - which is not surprising, really, considering she barely looked conscious as she made her way across the room. A sigh escapes your lips as you consider your options; theoretically, you could take her bed. It’s the right thing to do, despite everything that has transpired between you two since that night after her nightmare.

You haven’t shared a bed again, but there has been a lot more lingering looks and touches, and Laura has found more and more reasons to be closer to you lately - not that you’re complaining, of course.

The fact remains, however, that Laura is unconscious and if she hasn’t asked for you to be next to her, then you should just give her the space she needs to sleep this off.

With your mind made up, you move to the bathroom, picking up a bucket from the small supply closet under the sink and setting it beside the bed, figuring that Laura will need it sometime during the night. You also get her a glass of water and a couple of pills, leaving them on your nightstand, in a place where she can easily reach it but not close enough that she might accidentally knock it down.

When everything is settled, you look down at her. Her nose is scrunched up in that cute way of hers, but you don’t think anything is bothering her. Before you can stop yourself, you lean down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Good night, love,” you whisper, trying not to pay too much attention to the word that slips past your lips.

You push yourself up, and as you do so, you feel a hand gripping your forearm and a single word uttered from her lips, “Stay.”

And then she tugs you down with a strength you don’t think possible for her to have when she’s basically comatose. Maybe you should pretend she didn’t say anything, but she’s still holding your arm and before you can think twice about what’s happening, you’re settling behind her in the same way you had barely two months ago, the scent that has become so familiar to you invading your nostrils as soon as you lay your head down on her yellow pillow.

Only then she seems content, her grip on your arm slackening but never fully letting go.

(Again, in the morning, you don’t talk about it.)

 

**III.**

It’s friday after your last lecture of the day, and when you get to your room, you honestly think an earthquake hit campus and you somehow didn’t feel it.

Everything is a _mess._

And you’re not a person to use that word lightly. You’ve been living with Laura for almost an year now and you’ve started to be more mindful of where you leave your things once you realized that your careless actions made her not only annoyed, but also stressed. She already had too much on her plate - you both did, but even so - and she didn’t need you to be making things worse just because of a petty desire to see her riled up.

But not even in your former days, back when you left your clothes strewn on the floor just for the sake of seeing her face go red, had you seen your room in such quite disarray.

Her clothes are _everywhere_ and you can see that her bed looks strangely bent on one side. There are books on top of the computer desk and bags and shoes on the chair, and you swear you can even see her underwear peeking out from the part of her bed that is not nearly touching the ground.

“Laura?” you ask, stepping aside a polka dotted dress as you make your way to your bed. 

You can’t even see where she is.

“Oh God, are you buried under your clothes?”

“You know,” she says, walking out of the bathroom with more clothes on her arms. “I think it’s strangely peculiar that vampires can speak God’s name.”

There’s no way to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at her. Of course she won’t acknowledge the mess she’s made. If your roles had been reversed, you’re sure she’d have screamed your head off by now.

Still, you humor her, “It doesn’t really make a difference if it has no meaning to me.”

She tilts her head to the side and nods to herself, “Huh. That makes sense, I guess.”

You watch her as she drops the clothes on the bed and then moves to your shared wardrobe, where you can see that not only her clothes have made their way out of it, but also _yours_.

“Cupcake? Where are my clothes?”

“Oh!” Laura turns around, pointing to her bed. “Somewhere… in there.” 

She looks at the wardrobe for a long moment and you let yourself watch her. You know from the way her shoulders are dropping lower and lower that she’s tired, but you also know that she won’t allow herself to go to bed until she’s finished her cleaning spree - you’ve put two and two together and figured this is what she’s up to - so you let out a heavy sigh and start folding the clothes you know will have to go back in before you can even begin to think of laying in your bed.

“You don’t have to help,” she says, once she notices what you’re doing. 

“I know,” you shrug, not bothering to look up at her. You don’t want to see the way her eyes will probably be glinting in some mixture of appreciation and _something_ else for you. You don’t think you can deal with that yet. “But the faster you finish this the faster I can go to bed, right?”

Laura doesn’t say anything, but when you glance up - sure enough - she’s biting her lip and looking at you in that way that you just _know_ will make you do whatever she asks for the rest of eternity, because that’s how fucking whipped you are.

The both of you work in silence, and you try not to feel _too_ warm with the cute way Laura giggles whenever you use your vampire abilities to speed things along. The whole thing doesn’t take nearly as long as it probably would’ve taken if you had let Laura finish by herself, but even so, you can still notice that she’s sleeping on her feet by the time you’re done.

It’s then that you realize just _why_ her bed looked so weird when you first walked in.

“Oh, yeah,” she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, throwing you a sheepish smile. “I threw my books at it when I first started cleaning and it sorta gave away? But it’s okay, I can totally take out the mattress and sleep on the floor.”

(She means _you_ can totally take out her mattress. There’s no way she’ll ever manage that on her own.)

“Okay, then,” you nod, but she’s looking at you with her brows furrowed, and it’s as if you just _know_ the words that are about to come out of her mouth. “Cupcake-”

“Come on,” she says, picking up the rest of her pillows and throwing them on your bed. “I promise I’ll keep to my side.”

And you want to say something, but it’s not the first time it’s happened, so you don’t really have an excuse to deny her that. It’s not as if it actually means something - friends share beds all the time, you’re sure of it, though you’ve never had anything remotely to a real friend before Laura.

So you bite your lip and you dutifully take your place, and Laura doesn’t even pay attention to you, too busy fluffling out her pillows to even take notice of the havoc she’s wreaking inside of you.

“Goodnight, Carm,” she breathes out, and you don’t see it from your place behind her, but you can _hear_ the smile on her lips.

(You swear you can feel your heart beating in your chest.)

(Cliché. Cliché. Cliché.)

“Sleep well, Cupcake,” you whisper as you close your eyes and try to focus on something, _anything_ that isn’t the warmth of her body lying so close to you.

Sometime in the night, your bodies gravitate towards each other and you wake up in a mess of tangled limbs and mixed breaths. 

(You pretend to be sleeping when Laura pulls away, and you don’t get up until she’s left the room to go meet Danny for their weekly pie date.)

 

**IV.**

It’s the middle of the night when her scream echoes in your room.

You move as fast as your vampire abilities allow you but, somehow, by the moment you manage to untangle yourself from your sheets and stand up, Laura is already pressed against your side, her arms clinging to you like she’s standing on an abyss and you’re the only thing keeping her from falling.

(Your brain immediately takes you back to that day when your roles had been reversed and you’d been the one in the abyss, clinging to Laura with everything you had - both figuratively and not.)

“ _Laura,_ ” you breathe out, holding her tight against you. “What the fuck?”

The light is still off, but it doesn’t really make any difference to you. Your eyes roam around the room for just a second before you realize that there’s no imminent danger, nothing that could’ve made Laura scream like that, not to mention get out of bed so quickly.

“A bug,” Laura whispers against your shoulder and you think you must’ve heard her wrong because - _no._

“What?”

She pulls back and gives you a terrified look, “ _A bug_ , Carmilla!”

And all you want to do is laugh, really, because of course a girl like Laura - who doesn’t have to think twice about getting in the most life threatening situations - is scared of goddamn freaking bugs.

“What kind of bug was it?” you ask her, and you try not to pay too much attention to the way her arms are wrapped around your waist and her chin is resting on your shoulder.

It seems a lot more intimate than what’s appropriate for your current situation, but Laura doesn’t say anything, so you keep your mouth shut as well.

(You might as well enjoy this while you can.)

“I don’t know what _kind_ it was,” Laura whispers, and you don’t even have to look at her face to know that she’s giving you a look that says you’re being unreasonable right now.

Because you’re clearly the one who woke up in the middle of the night because of a goddamn bug that it’s probably already gone.

So you tell her that.

(Well, the part that matters, anyway.)

“It’s probably already gone, cupcake.”

You feel her shaking her head against your shoulder, “No. These creatures are evil, Carm. And not evil, like, _you_ evil. But _evil_ , evil.”

A chuckle escapes your lips, “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.”

There’s a noise of something moving against her bed, and suddenly you feel Laura’s arms wrapping tighter against your waist and her face pressing further into your neck. You count to ten and hope that you won’t be betrayed by your body; the last thing you need in this moment is for Laura to know what being so close like this does to you.

“It’s _moving_ , Carm.”

You roll your eyes, “Are you sure it’s still there?” You don’t want to make fun of her, but you really want to put some distance between you two before you do something you might regret.

(You wouldn’t ever regret it, but you can’t speak for Laura.)

“It’s there,” she nods quickly. “I can’t see it, but I know it is.”

“Well,” you let out a heavy breath and turn to look at her. “I’ll turn on the light and see if I can find it, okay? And then we can both go back to sleep.”

Laura seem to ponder this for a moment, and then she nods and loosens her deathly grip, allowing you to walk to the other side of the room and turn on the light. You wince slightly at the sudden brightness, but waste no time moving to her bed, your eyes sweeping over every inch of it, until you’re sure that there’s no bug anywhere.

You turn to her, “See? It’s gone, like I told you.”

The idea that the bug has disappeared has Laura even more panicked than before.

“I can’t sleep there,” she says, and you notice that she’s already moving to your bed.

(This is seriously becoming a dangerous habit.)

“Fine,” you turn off the light. “I’ll take yours. Just try to sleep, okay?”

“You can’t sleep on my bed!” she looks a mix between shocked and beyond scared at the idea. “What if the bug flies on you while you’re sleeping?”

She is ridiculous.

(In the most amazing way.)

“Cupcake, I don’t mind. And I think whatever it was, it’s gone anyway.”

But she’s undeterred in her decision, “No, no. Nobody is sleeping on that bed tonight.”

“This is pointless,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “It’s just a tiny bug. It’s probably more afraid of us than we- _you_ are of it.”

“Carmilla,” she says between clenched teeth, and you can swear she’s almost growling at you. “Get in the goddamn bed and stop complaining.”

Now you definitely _can’t_ get in that bed. You can’t because demanding Laura is _hot_ and you’re suddenly more attracted to her than you’ve ever found possible and you can’t possibly share a bed with her in this state.

But then she’s patting the space behind her - and it’s ridiculous how you two already have this down to an art, really - so you take a deep breath and you do as she told you, not even bothering to wait for her to fall asleep before you wrap your arm around her waist and pulls her closer to you, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.

“No bugs here,” you tell her. “Now sleep.”

She takes the hand that’s around her waist and laces your fingers together, giving a soft squeeze, “You’re my hero, Carmilla Karnstein.”

You snort, “I told you not to get used to this heroic bullshit.”

She’s quiet for a few moments and you think she’s fallen asleep, but then she lets out a soft sigh, “Too late.”

(And she’s right. It _is_ too late. There’s no turning back now.)

 

**V.**

It’s been two weeks since the bug incident. 

You’ve yet to let Laura live down that event, and you don’t think you ever will, really. There’s something gratifying in the way her cheeks go bright red whenever you mention that day and you can’t help that you love embarrassing her. You’ve long accepted that you’re a sucker for her wrinkled nose and pouty lips.

But ever since that day, things have changed. A lot.

You’ve been getting closer and closer to Laura for a while now, but there always seemed to be that wall between the two of you - and you admit that it had mostly been your doing, trying to keep her away so that she wouldn’t be hurt if something ever went wrong in your life; being a vampire isn’t always the safest, even if you think the worst is already behind you.

Lately, however, you realize that you haven’t really had any reason to keep Laura away so, well, you _hadn’t_. The events of you sharing a bed to sleep had been isolated, but she’s been invading your space more and you more and sometimes you find yourself wishing that she wouldn’t sit so far away to work on a paper she has due, or that she’d come watch her shows in your bed with you.

Subtly, you make those things happen.

You don’t think Laura noticed what’s going on, really; she’s always liked being close to you and now she probably thinks that you’re finally allowing this friendship thing to really happen between the two of you. And it’s fine; if friends are all you’ll ever be, you’re more than happy with it.

“Are you even watching this?” you ask her, glancing from the screen where you’re both binge watching _Buffy, the Vampire Slayer_ after receiving the news that your classes had been canceled due to mysterious occurrences of spontaneous combustions of objects around campus.

She nods her head, but it only moves weirdly against the crook of your neck, “‘Course.”

That’s all the answer you need to know that she’s probably not watching it at tall. You can feel the way her chest is rising and falling slowly against your body and you don’t want this to end, but you still can’t bring yourself to do something that might make Laura pull away from you.

You decide to humor her for a little while longer, and you keep watching the screen where Buffy and Faith are going at each other _yet again_.

(It’s been years and you still don’t understand how modern pop culture can show one thing while trying to tell you something completely different and still expecting you to go along with it.)

“You’re totally missing out the best part, Cupcake,” you tease Laura, but she only huffs against you and shifts until she’s pressed closed to your side.

Lately, you’ve been finding that you don’t really want her to ever let go. You know better than anyone that life is a fleeting thing, but you find that if you have Laura by your side - it doesn’t matter if for a year or more - maybe the fleeting things are worth fighting for, worth protecting and worth nurturing until they can become the best that they can possibly be.

You want things with Laura to be like that.

So, when the episode ends and you know that Laura has fallen asleep against you, you put her laptop away and you wrap your arms around her, thinking of all the things that the future holds for the two of you, if only you manage to move past your fear that things are gonna go wrong yet again.

Everything has changed; Laura is not Ell, your Mother is dead, Silas is not any more dangerous than it’s ever been before the sacrifices started being made, so really, what _is_ there to be afraid?

And the answer, you finally realize, is nothing.

There isn’t anything, and you don’t have to hold back your feelings anymore.

You’re free.

 

**VI.**

You kiss Laura just outside the Robespierre building, minutes after your class has let out and in the middle of a bunch of Silas students that waste no time before they start whispering and giggling around the two of you.

In another time, maybe that would’ve bothered you. But lately there’s only been _Laura_ in your life, and in that moment, she’s all that matters. The way she’s smiling as she presses her lips against yours, the way she’s squealing in happiness and holding tightly to your waist, as if she never wants to let you go.

(She doesn’t have to worry, you’re not planning on ever going away from her.)

You feel the kiss _everywhere_. It starts in your lips and spreads through your body, and you think you’ve never been as alive as you are in that moment, not even when you actually had a heart that pumped blood through your body. Kissing Laura is like fireworks and butterflies going crazy in your stomach, stars exploding behind your eyes and a heat coursing through your veins in a way that you’ve never felt possible before.

It’s every cliché you’ve ever heard in all yours years of life - and death, and everything in between - and you thought you’d never become this kind of person, but you can’t be happier that you have.

(You’ll be a cliché a thousand times over, if it means you get to have Laura in your arms.)

“Took you long enough,” she tells you when you stop kissing, and you can only hang your head in shame, because, _yeah_. 

And to think you wasted all this time not kissing her.

“I’m sorry,” you press a kiss to her lips. “I messed it up this time.”

She laughs and pulls you towards your dorm, and the way your fingers lace together so effortlessly makes the grin that’s been plastered on your face since her lips touched yours stretch even wider.

“It’s cool,” she throws back behind her shoulder. You reach the door and she turns to fully face you, the look in her eyes setting your body on fire, “You can make it up to me.”

And make up to her you do. You kiss for hours, and yet, when the sun is down and the stars are glowing in the sky, it still doesn’t feel like it’s enough. It’s as if you’ve a taste of paradise and you don’t ever want to let it go. Laura’s kisses taste like chocolate and _happiness_ and you don’t want to do anything other than kiss her for the rest of your existence.

You don’t have to tell her that, though, because you have a feeling that Laura shares that same thought. Even so, when the clock is long past midnight and the kissing has slowed exponentially to give room to a lot of _cuddling_ , you feel Laura shift against you, dropping her legs on the ground and pushing herself up.

“What are you doing?” you ask her, even though it seems pretty obvious.

She looks back at you, and the smile on her lips is enough to light up all the darkness that surrounds you, “I’m going to bed, you silly vampire.”

“You’re in bed,” you point out, because of all the times for Laura to decide she actually wants to sleep on her side of the room, this is most certainly not one that you appreciate.

“Carm-” she bites her lip, and you pull her back before she can say anything else.

When the words leaves your lips, you don’t think you’ve ever sounded so certain in your life, “Stay here.”

It’s worth it just to see the way she lights up.

Until then, you were convinced you’d seen Laura Hollis happy. But everything else pales in comparison to this moment, where you can see the pure and unadulterated glee in her face, and the way she just jumps at you, pushing your lips together in a kiss that knocks the wind of of your lungs and - for the first time in your existence - makes you glad that you don’t really need to breathe.

You hold her close to you as you fall asleep, and you think that, maybe, everything you’ve done in your life brought you to this moment. Every mistake and every wrong turn brought you to the arms of one Laura Hollis. And, as you wrap your arm tighter around her waist and presses a kiss to her swollen lips - and it still makes your head spin that you can actually _do_ this now - you make the conscious decision that you don’t ever want to spend another night in your life without the feel of her body pressed against yours.

Never again you want to imagine what it's like to not be surrounded by her true and unconditional love, the one that you know she feels, despite it being too early for either of you to actually say those words.

You find out, deep in your heart, that you never want to sleep in a bed without Laura Hollis in it.

It just doesn’t make sense for you anymore.

(And maybe it never did, you just didn’t know until now.)

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on [tumblr.](http://antisocialgod.tumblr.com/)


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